Weekend Plans
by forever fan
Summary: Dinner, dancing and only adults in the house
1. Chapter 1

Title: Weekend Plans

Author: Forever Fan

Rating: T

Spoilers: All episodes

Category: Romance

Disclaimer: This property belongs to David Gerber Productions and Fox Television. I make no profit and intend no infringement

Summary: Dinner, dancing and only adults in the house

Feedback: Yes, please

"**Nothing is going to ruin this weekend"**

The cuckoo clock cuckooed four times. Nanny went through her list again: tent, lanterns, cooking gear, extra fuel, matches, flashlights, waterproof ponchos, food…

"I think we have everything," Hal said running through his own list. Camping gear, sorted into two piles, was scattered on the living room rug ready for packing. It was a mess, but an organized mess.

"Butch!" Hall called, again exasperated at his brother's ability to be absent whenever the real work was ready to be done. "Get in here and start packing or we won't be ready in time."

Butch sauntered into the living room with a handful of chips and Waldo trailing behind him, the dog intent on eating any stray chips that might land on the floor. "What's the rush? We don't leave until tomorrow."

"The rush," Hal explained, "is the bus will pick us up at five-thirty in the morning and if you're not packed the way Scoutmaster Wagner wants us packed, he won't care about leaving you behind, and neither will I."

"Thanks a lot." Butch said, finishing his chips and wiping the leftover crumbs off on his jeans. "If Scoutmaster Wagner was leaving you behind, I'd help you."

"But he isn't leaving you behind, Butch," Nanny told him, "not yet. And if you get all of your gear packed neatly, correctly and on time, you won't have to fear missing the trip."

"Hey, yeah," Butch said enthusiastically. He began to tackle his packing task. "Even if it rains again this year, we're all staying. The scoutmaster said braving a cold is all part of being a man – and a good scout."

"Well," Nanny said, folding her list and slipping it into her apron pocket, "I'm not sure if that's true, but braving the elements is all part of good scouting – if you are well prepared."

"And we're prepared this time, Nanny," Hal said. "The new tent doesn't leak and we have everything waterproofed. Nothing is going to ruin this weekend."

"Maybe we should bring inflatable life rafts," Butch said worriedly. "The last time we camped at Black Hawk Wilderness the lake nearly flooded. Remember, Nanny?"

"There's little chance of that happening this time, Butch," Nanny replied smiling as she remembered the entire family squashed into the leaky old tent in the pouring rain and how lovely that outing had been. "All of you boys are experienced scouts and are prepared for any eventuality."

"What do the tree frogs say, Nanny?" Hal asked grinning. She knew he didn't believe she actually received weather information from the animals, but he couldn't resist teasing her. In this way, Hal was becoming very much like his father.

"Rain or shine," Nanny said, "I predict you are both going to have a marvelous weekend! But you won't be off to a very good start if you don't finish your packing soon." With that remark, she turned towards the kitchen with the intention of completing dinner. Then she stopped, changed direction and opened the front door. She stood face-to-face with a startled Professor Everett.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Nanny said brightly, "just in time for tea this afternoon."

The Professor suppressed a sigh. He was finally getting used to Nanny's unusual ability for predicting things, because although he did not believe in precognition, he couldn't deny the fact that she did, in fact, predict things accurately.

"That sounds great, Nanny," he told her. Then he spied the clutter in the living room and his two industrious sons. "What's this?" he asked the boys. "You guys preparing to run away from home?"

"No, Dad," Butch stopped his packing activities for a moment. "This weekend our scout troop is going camping. We'll be gone two whole nights and have to be ready for any eventuality. Right, Nanny?"

"Right," she agreed. "There's a strong possibility of rain, Professor," she told him. "That's the reason for all of the extra precautions."

"Tree frogs again, Nanny?" he asked as he picked up his mail from the hall table. Then he paused in the sorting of his letters to raise a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Oh no," she answered. "The weatherman on channel three predicts showers on and off all weekend including the Black Hawk Wilderness area."

"Hmmm," the Professor's reply was non-committal.

"Daddy?" Prudence was coming slowly down the stairs dragging a suitcase behind her in one hand and clutching a doll in her other. "Since the boys get to go camping, can I stay at Amy's house this weekend?"

"All weekend, Sweetheart?" the Professor asked her, kissing her 'hello' on her cheek. "Don't you think Daddy will be lonesome?"

"Nanny will be here," Prudence told him. "She can keep you company."

"There's a birthday party sleepover at Amy's house on Saturday night, Professor," Nanny told him. "Prudence has been looking forward to it all week. I reminded you earlier and you said she could go…"

"Of course," he set his daughter down on her feet. "But if that's not until Saturday night  
why are you already packed, Prudence?"

"I don't want to leave it to do until the last minute the way the boys do," Prudence said in a matter-of-fact manner. Then she headed for the kitchen, Nanny trailing after her.

The Professor shook his head at his practical-minded daughter's actions, and then stopped Nanny before she disappeared with Prudence into the kitchen.

"Nanny," he called. She turned back towards him. "Since all three kids will be out of the house on Saturday night, if you'd like the evening off…"

She smiled. "Thank you, Professor, but there isn't anything special I would like to do. I'll just fix dinner and enjoy a relaxing evening at home." Nanny started back for the kitchen when the Professor stopped her again.

"Nanny," he began, and then hesitated. "You never seem to take any time off for yourself. Everyday you're taking care of this house, this family. Everyday you are cooking." He paused again, thinking for a moment, and then rushed on. "Would you…would you like to go out for the evening? For dinner? With me?" When he was met with her surprised silence, he went on. "I…I don't mean a date…exactly…just a relaxing evening out for a change. You deserve it. And the opportunity of having all three kids out of the house at the same time doesn't happen very often. We might not get the chance to have a quiet evening out – together – for a long time. So I thought if you wanted to…"

The Professor trailed off awkwardly and was almost embarrassed by his comments. Inwardly he was cringing, he hadn't mangled asking a woman out so badly since the junior homecoming dance when he was fifteen. And the girl had said no.

Nanny considered his question for what seemed like a long time. Her blue eyes looked steadily into his for a lengthily moment, then she smiled and dropped her gaze.

"That would be lovely," she said very softly, then met his eyes once more. He was smiling and she smiled back both of them unsure of what to say next.

"There is a condition," Nanny said finally and she watched as his eyes turned wary. "Tomorrow night you have a late faculty function. I can give Prudence her dinner early, and wait dinner for you. I've never prepared your favorite dinner for you as the children don't like coq au vin. I'd like to make it for you to thank you for your generosity."

The Professor tried to hide his obvious pleasure at her proposal. Having dinner together, alone, two nights in a row definitely had its appeal.

"Sort of like a 'dry run' for Saturday night, huh?" he tried to make light of the situation even as his quick mind was already running through possible scenarios two such evenings could bring.

Nanny suddenly looked shy and dropped her gaze to the floor again.

"Well," the Professor said breezily, heading towards his office door, "The Marquis has excellent food and a roomy dance floor. Perhaps we'll need to practice dancing before heading out to dinner too?"

Nanny looked up sharply and the Professor congratulated himself for startling her. He smiled broadly at her again before disappearing into his office.

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	2. Chapter 2

"**You can count on me to be careful" **

Friday morning was an unusually hectic one in the Everett household. The entire family was up before dawn, due to Butch's impatience and anxiety about being properly packed and ready for the scout bus pick up. He was determined not to be left behind, and woke everyone up at four in the morning when his attempt at fixing breakfast filled the entire kitchen with smoke. Luckily Nanny had been at Butch's and the kitchen's rescue, her efficient and perky self neatly dressed and groomed while she chased smoke out the back door and the kitchen window.

The Professor, on the other hand, barely managed to stagger down the stairs, blurry-eyed and panicked, carrying the half-asleep Prudence with an anxious Hal on his heels. The strong smell of smoke had reached the second floor, and suspecting the worst the Professor had gathered the children and was prepared to flee the house.

"Crisis averted, Professor," Nanny told him while flapping a dish towel at the remaining smoke. "No fires to put out, but I'm afraid we've lost another frying pan to Butch's underdeveloped culinary skills."

The Professor signed and Hal groaned.

"Oh, brother," the thirteen-year-old said as he headed out of the kitchen. "Come on, Prudence," he told his sister, "we might as well get ready for the day."

As Prudence took hold of her oldest brother's hand she remarked to Butch, "Don't wake us up by burning the eggs again, Butch. It doesn't smell so good and it upsets Daddy." She was interrupted by Waldo's barking. "And Waldo." The cuckoo clock began to cuckoo on the hour and Prudence turned to Butch again, "and the cuckoo."

The Professor sat down heavily on a kitchen chair and called the contrite Butch to his side. He then delivered a brief lecture on not using the stove without adult supervision. Butch nodded and swallowed hard, afraid of what his punishment might entail.

"But I can still go camping, can't I Dad? I mean, it really was an accident," the boy's eyes were huge and suspiciously bright.

"I know it was Butch, but you've got to be more careful," the Professor was rubbing his tired eyes and nodded his thanks when Nanny set a cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

"I've tried to tell you that thinking before you act and being accountable for your actions is a way of proving to me that you are ready for more responsibility. Now," the Professor's voice was stern, but gentle, "do you think I can allow you to go away for two whole nights and not worry you'll get into this kind of mischief again?" He waved his hand to include the still smoky air in the kitchen. "Can you tell me I don't have to worry about you?"

"You don't have to worry about me, Dad!" Butch's eyes were sincere. "You can count on me to be careful."

The Professor looked at his son for a long moment, and then nodded.

"Alright then, Butch. Finish getting ready," he smiled at the boy and tousled his blond hair.

"Thanks Dad!" Butch hugged his father briefly then raced out of the room and pounded up the stairs.

The Professor sighed, smiling briefly at Nanny as she sat down at the table next to him.

"I hope I'm doing the right thing," he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I'm sure you are, Professor," Nanny smiled back encouragingly. "I believe scouting is an excellent place for Butch to prove his ability to be responsible. He's just overly enthusiastic at times, and that's what gets him into trouble."

"I suspect," the Professor mused," that's what gets all of us into trouble at one time or another. Acting without thinking, rushing forward enthusiastically without considering consequences, seeing something we want and grabbing an opportunity…" He was gesturing with one hand stretched towards her, and noticing the movement stopped and dropped his hand to the table self-consciously.

"Yes, well," he cleared his throat and took another sip of coffee. He was suddenly aware he had rushed downstairs without a robe or slippers and was sitting at the table talking to Nanny in disheveled, thin, cotton pajamas and barefooted. It was intimate and disconcerting in the pre-dawn.

"I'd better get dressed and ready for work," the Professor said, rising from the table and taking his coffee cup with him.

"Oh, you have hours left to sleep Professor," Nanny told him. "I can get the boys off for scouting and Prudence ready for school."

"No," he murmured, seemingly lost in thought. "I think the sooner I'm out and off to work today the better." Answering Nanny's near frown, he replied, "Lots of work to do today. It promises to be a long day and I wouldn't want to be late for an excellent dinner." Then he winked at her in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner and headed for his room.

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The day that had promised to be a long one for Harold Everett held its promise. He had been acting chair for his department during the short medical absence of Professor Fairbanks. And throughout that time, he found that whatever envy he'd held for the man for beating him out of the department chair position had vanished. In the ten days or so of covering for Fairbanks, an abundance of administrative headaches and hang-ups had surfaced that he'd only had glimpses of before. And the political aspects of the position held no glamour for him. Professor Everett found he would rather face a roomful of angry students challenging their grades, or even his teaching methods, than face one positioning colleague trying to manipulate his favor. Even the fact that his day couldn't end with his last class tried his patience considerably.

Professor Everett generally attended department functions with good grace, but after making his rounds and saying whatever was appropriate for the occasion he would slip out unnoticed. Not so when he was acting chair. His long day prolonged into the early evening hours as he was expected to stay, at least until the Dean and the guest of honor left, and so far neither showed any signs of making an early departure.

Now Harold Everett found himself smiling politely at the guest of honor, listening as the man droned on about his new position at U.C.L.A., and how hard it was for his wife handling all of the details of their relocation. The Professor sipped his drink and grinned to himself thinking: "Nanny could handle all of those details and take on endearing herself to the new neighbors and the new faculty before we'd even settled in. I'm…we're lucky to have her."

The thought of Nanny and the special dinner she was preparing for him raised his anticipation of wanting to leave as soon as possible. Discreetly, he glanced at his watch, but evidently not discreetly enough.

"Hey, Hal," Don Stinson slapped him on the back as he approached, and leaned a heavy hand on the Professor's shoulder. "Looking to leave early, old man? Got a special date?" The parapsychologist winked at him and then turned to their departing colleague.

"This guy's a regular "Swinging Sam", Stinson said, referring to the visiting psychology professor who had been and gone the year before. "Swinging Sam" had quite the reputation as a womanizer, and Harold Everett still disliked recalling that the man had briefly dated Nanny.

"Got a new girl every few weeks, don't you Hal?" Don eyed the crowd. "Is there a new prospect lurking here? I hear Marge is still interested, even after you cooled it with her."

"No, no, no one," Professor Everett forced a grin and finished his drink a bit too quickly. "Kids at home, you know. Just wanted to say goodnight to my daughter and…"

"…and to the cute, little housekeeper" Don Stinson finished. To their departing colleague he said sotto voce, "Hal's kids have got the cutest little nanny. She's got a British accent and everything. I guess if I had a doll like that waiting at home for me…"

"Don!" Harold Everett shrugged off his friend's hand. "I think you've had enough to drink. Sorry Ed," he said to the guest of honor, "maybe I'd better leave now and see that Don gets home alright. Best of luck to you." He escorted Don towards the exit murmuring apologies and goodbyes as he did so, angry at his friend's rude comments and yet grateful to him for giving him an excuse to leave. The man's reputation might get a bit tarnished, but after what he had implied tonight about Nanny, Don deserved the metaphorical black eye.

"But all I said was…" Stinson protested as they left. To the Professor's continued annoyance, Don did prove too drunk to drive himself home, so by the time he brought his friend to his door and started for home himself, it was later than he'd hoped.

XXXXXXXXX

It was nearly eight o'clock when the Professor let himself in the house and locked the door behind him. The delicious smell of coq co vin filled the foyer, making his mouth water. The house was dimly lit and uncharacteristically quiet. He reminded himself that only Nanny and Prudence were at home. The Professor went into the kitchen, expecting to find them there, but the kitchen was empty and the dining area lit with only one lamp.

He saw that the table was set beautifully for two, with the best china, silver, wine glasses and linen napkins. This was definitely not the usual table setting when feeding three growing, active children. And the centerpiece was freshly cut red roses from Nanny's garden. His garden. Whatever. The Professor found at times he couldn't tell what belonged to him anymore and what in fact, was her domain. Generally he thought of things as "theirs". Even the children. Shaking his head with a rueful grin, he realized there was also a bottle of wine on the table as well as unlit candles. Roses, wine, candlelight…no, not a usual table setting at all.

On his way upstairs to clean up for dinner and say goodnight to Prudence, the Professor passed the living room and stopped. It might be just a whim, but he decided to lay preparations for a fire in the fireplace and angle one loveseat in full view of the potential fire. He also moved the other loveseat against one wall, leaving plenty of floor space near the hi-fi. Telling himself he was being foolish, he nonetheless glanced through the records stored near the phonograph. He selected soft, quiet music, suitable for slow dancing and placed the records on the turntable. Just in case Nanny indulged his suggestion of practicing their dancing skills, he thought it might be best to be prepared.

Taking the steps two at a time to the second floor, the Professor could hear Nanny's soft, musical voice reading a bedtime story to Prudence. He smiled to himself. Prudence adored Nanny, as did Hal and Butch. But Prudence had lost her mother at such an early age he worried she may be the most affected by the loss. And being a girl, she may feel the need for a mother more acutely than the boys. Not for the first time a stab of guilt hit the Professor, and he wondered if by allowing Nanny to take the role of his children's mother he had not sought hard enough to find them – and him - a woman to permanently fill the role of wife and mother in the home.

Again, he could hear Nanny's gentle voice coming from down the hall, and thinking about the potentialities of the evening, the evenings, ahead, he smiled to himself and pushed any other anxieties from his thoughts.

Professor Everett surprised himself by taking a quick shower and shaving carefully instead of just changing clothes. Then he dressed casually in a dark blue pullover and dark slacks, not forgetting to splash on a little aftershave. He told himself it had been an uncommonly long and stressful day, and he wanted to be refreshed and comfortable when enjoying his dinner. What he didn't tell himself was that he wanted to be at his best for what he wouldn't admit to himself was a date.

Leaving his room, he made his way down the hall to Prudence's room. Nanny was sitting on the child's bed, her soft voice even softer, signaling the little girl was nearly asleep. For a moment, the Professor watched them both in silence, Nanny's eyes downcast on the page she was reading, her long eyelashes casting shadows on her flawless, peaches and cream skin. Her hair was pulled back in a wide bow, and she was wearing a high-collared lacy blouse and a long skirt, both cream colored. She looked lovely, as always, but the Professor almost mourned the fact that her shapely legs were covered by the long skirt, and in fact that so much of her was covered by the modest clothes she favored. Then he chided himself for his musings. That she was a beautiful woman was certain and that he was attracted to her was a fact, but anything developing between them was a complete unknown, something he doubted even Nanny could intuit.

Sensing his presence, both Nanny and Prudence looked towards him and smiled in tandem. He was struck by how much they looked like mother and daughter and could sense the ease and the love between them. Did all nannies and their charges share this loving bond? The Professor didn't know the answer to that question; he only counted himself fortunate that his children shared love with this particular and remarkable nanny.

"Daddy," Prudence lifted her arms to him for an embrace and a kiss goodnight.

As he hugged her, Prudence remarked "I missed you tonight, Daddy. Nanny said you're going to have a special dinner tonight. Why Daddy? Is it your birthday?"

"No, Darling. It isn't my birthday." The Professor tucked the covers around his daughter tightly. "Nanny is just being nice and made me a dinner you and the boys wouldn't like."

Prudence made a face. "It isn't octopus again, is it Nanny?"

"No, Sweetheart," Nanny answered her, laughing. "It is chicken, but in a sauce make with wine."

"Oh, is that what I smelled"? The child wrinkled her nose. "No wonder you need roses and candles on the table – to hide the smell."

"Something like that, Prudence," her father told her. When he bent closely to kiss his daughter's forehead she moved to kiss his cheek.

"You smell nice, Daddy. Like when you go out," she said. "And your cheeks are smooth like in the morning and not rough like at night." Her eyes were closing and she was starting to fall asleep. "Are you going out, Daddy?"

"No, Darling. I'm staying home and having dinner here with Nanny."

"Good." Prudence's eyes were closed as she snuggled into her pillow and hugged her doll tightly. "Nanny smells real nice too. You go ahead and smell her Daddy, if you don't believe me.

Nanny and the Professor looked at one another and smiled. Then Nanny rose from the bed, kissed the sleeping child's cheek and turned off her bedside lamp. Now the room was illuminated by only a small, nightlight glowing near the floorboard. They both exited Prudence's room and when Nanny closed the door quietly, she turned to find the Professor standing very close to her. As he leaned even closer, she found herself holding her breath fighting both the urge to pull back and the urge to lean towards him. Instead, she stood very still while the Professor took in a deep breath.

"Prudence was right," he said softly. He was looking into her eyes, but in the dim hallway his deep blue eyes were unreadable. "You do smell nice. Very nice. Lilac?" he guessed.

"Lavender," she replied, slightly breathless. Then she slipped past him and led their way down the stairs.

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	3. Chapter 3

"**Here's to mischief making, naughty – men"**

Professor Everett busied himself with opening the wine bottle while Nanny brought the salad plates to the table and lit the candles. It took her two strikes of the match before the match lit, and the Professor noted her hand shook slightly as she held the flame to each wick. He found her nervousness calmed his own nerves a bit, reassuring him that he wasn't alone in his keep awareness of the novelty of the situation they were sharing. As she started to seat herself, he stopped what he was doing and moved to the back of her chair.

"Allow me," the Professor said gallantly holding her chair out for her.

"Thank you, Professor," Nanny said. "But I will be up and down all evening serving the dinner, and you might find you gesture, however much appreciated, to be very tiring for you."

The Professor laughed. "Point taken." He returned to finishing opening the wine. "Well, as long as you realize the intention is there. Voila!" The cork came free of the bottle and he poured a small amount of burgundy liquid into Nanny's glass. "For you approval, Miss Figalilly."

Nanny sipped at the wine, then gave the Professor a bright smile. "Excellent. A wonderful choice, if I do say so myself."

The Professor smiled back then filled both of their glasses. "Nanny," he asked, "is there anything you don't know?"

Her smile turned demure, almost shy. "There are many things, many people I wish I knew more about."

"Really?" The Professor asked as he seated himself. "Like what? Like who?"

"Oh, any number of…" she stopped herself, considering. "Like you, for instance, Professor."

"Like me?" he paused, his fork half-way between his plate and his mouth. "What could you possibly want to know about me that you don't already know? Sometimes I think you know more about me than I do myself."

He winked at her, teasing her, but he was curious too. What did she want to know about him?

Nanny set her fork down and looking at him intently took another sip of wine. Her eyes sparkled in the low light. "What I meant was… have you enjoyed being acting department head? And how was the department's function this evening?"

That was not what she meant, and both she and the Professor knew it. He sensed there was something more on her mind, just as there was more on his, but neither was going to be the first to broach the topic…yet.

"Well," he decided to answer the easier of the two questions first. "Tonight was the same tedious going away party we've had for the departing faculty for years. Same finger food, same punch, same conversation." The Professor rolled his eyes. "If it wasn't for Don Stinson getting drunk and my having to take him home, I'd still be there smiling until my face hurt."

"Sounds like a real disaster in the making," Nanny laughed, rising from her chair and removing the salad plates from the table.

"And I've found I can't wait for Fairbanks' return," he said. "Burst appendix or not, if I have to conduct one more faculty meeting with a staff more immature than the students…"

He broke off as Nanny returned with the main course. A broad smile spread across the Professor's handsome face.

"Oh, Nanny," he said enthusiastically. "That looks and smells just wonderful! I have been looking forward to this all day. I could just kiss you for…"

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. The casual phrase seemed to hang in the air between them as Nanny paused in the act of putting his plate in front of him.

But true to form, Nanny recovered quickly and smiled through the awkward moment.

"No need for such drastic action," she told him. "A simple 'Thank you' will do."

The Professor decided to turn his accidental comment to his advantage. Looking her in the eye and grinning, he said, "Well, that all depends on what you've prepared for dessert."

By her startled look, he knew he had taken the right chance.

XXXXXXXXX

The coq co vin was delicious, restaurant quality really, and the Professor told Nanny so. Dinner conversation was familiar, ranging from the usual topics of the Professor's office politics, to the washer needing repair, to the weather. The day had been unseasonably warm and humid, with short rain showers in the late morning and the late afternoon. They were both concerned that the boys would remain warm, dry and safe.

"Conrad Wagner is an excellent scoutmaster," the Professor told Nanny. "His father was actually my scoutmaster when I was a boy. In fact, I remember one trip where all three of us – Bob, Ben and I – were determined to create as much havoc as possible so when we got to the campsite we split up and took…"

He broke off, noticing Nanny listening to him carefully and looking at him with affection. Her half-smile was warm and contagious.

The Professor smiled back and covered her hand with his. "I talk too much, don't I? About myself I mean. What I've really wanted to say all evening is there are also things I want to know about you."

"Really?" Nanny echoed his earlier inquiry. "Like what?"

"Like who you really are. What you did before you came here." The Professor shifted in his chair looking earnestly into her eyes and unconsciously tightening his hand over Nanny's. "I know so little about you. Where do you come from? Where do you want to go?"

He wasn't certain why he asked that last question or what he meant by it, exactly. All he knew at the moment was he had the opportunity here and now to finally ask this lovely woman some direct questions and was going to try his best to get some direct answers.

"Professor," Nanny started to stand. "I think we can continue this conversation over coffee and brandy – and dessert – in the living room in front of that beautiful fire you planned."

The Professor released her hand. "You're being evasive," he began defensively. Then he frowned. "How did you know I planned to set a fire in the fireplace this evening?"

"It's only logical," Nanny replied innocently, "to ward off the chill and the impending damp. It is raining, you know."

A clap of thunder accompanied her statement and the Professor resisted uttering an annoyed growl. He should be used to her weather predicting accuracy by now, even when the channel three weatherman didn't confirm it.

"I'll help clear the table," he began.

"No, no Professor," Nanny picked up their plates and blew out the candles. "You set that lovely fire and I'll bring in the tray." As he departed for the living room she stopped him by saying, "And some soft music would be very relaxing."

"You knew about that, too?" The Professor didn't know whether to be annoyed or delighted. If she could intuit his plans for the fire and the music, would she object to a slow dance or two?

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As the Professor started the fire in the fireplace, he noticed the brandy decanter and two glasses on a low table next to the loveseat he had moved. When had that happened? He had moved the seat before going upstairs to change, and would have noticed the brandy and the glasses then, wouldn't he? And Nanny had been upstairs with Prudence the entire time he had been upstairs changing, and she had come down the stairs with him. The Professor stared so long at the gleaming brandy decanter and glasses he almost burned himself on the lit fireplace match. Then shaking his head in confusion, he started the fire, watching it catch until it created a warm glow.

Moving to the phonograph, the Professor noted Nanny had been right about the encroaching chill. The fire would be both mood-setting and practical. Mood setting? As the Professor had cautioned Butch this morning, he asked himself now: was he thinking before acting? Or was he just enthusiastically grabbing at an opportunity and not too terribly concerned or conscious of any consequences? He honestly didn't know.

All the Professor did know was spending time alone with Nanny was what he wanted to do right now, and that all of his actions felt right to him. He wasn't absolutely certain if she and he were on the same page as far as where those actions might lead them, but he was determined to take those steps anyway. She certainly hadn't objected to any of his suggestions so far, but he had to admit, nothing had gone further than the most innocent of social gestures. Even his hint of kissing her in gratitude for the dinner seemed more amusing than challenging to her, although he had managed to startle her twice in two days.

"Dear Diary," the Professor joked to himself, "today I startled Nanny – again."

Another clap of thunder called the Professor's attention to the window as lightening lit the room. The illumination showed rain was beating against the windows now, coming down in sheets. He looked towards the stairs, hoping the thunder and lightening wouldn't wake Prudence.

"She's sound asleep, Professor," Nanny said as she came into the living room bearing a tray with coffee and dessert. "And Prudence never wakes during thunderstorms."

"I certainly hope not," the Professor said mildly. Not wanting his daughter's sleep disturbed was not his only concern this evening. He may not be one hundred percent sure of what he wanted the evening's outcome to be, but he was certain he didn't want any interruptions tonight.

Nanny straightened from where she had been preparing their coffee and looked at the Professor from across the room. She stood very still, and their eyes met, although shadows fell across both of their faces. The Professor was struck again by how beautiful she was, almost ethereal in the firelight, a vision or specter instead of a flesh and blood woman.

"I'm real," Nanny spoke so softly that the Professor wasn't certain if he had heard her.

Instead of responding, he occupied himself with the stereo. The smooth beginning strains of "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" came from the phonograph speakers and Harold Everett grinned.

"In honor of Butch's four a.m. breakfast making fiasco," he said, lightening the moment.

Nanny smiled and handed the Professor his coffee. As he reached for the cup, he noticed two slices of fudge cake sitting on china plates on the tray.

"You did make my favorite dessert!" the Professor said, excitedly. "Well, I don't know why I should be surprised. Nanny, you do think of everything. Were you ever a Girl Scout?"

"Girl Guide, Professor," she corrected. "And yes, I was. I do believe in being prepared. Is this more of your attempt at getting to know me better?

"Could be. But there are probably more direct methods. I never did get those references, but then, you never did poison me either." He reached for his cake and raised a questioning eyebrow at her. Then he took a large bite.

"Hmmm. Delicious," the Professor rolled his eyes in comically exaggerated appreciation.

Nanny laughed, "You certainly do live dangerously, Professor," she said and stirred her coffee.

"Do I?" the Professor leaned closer to Nanny on the loveseat, his grin and the look in his eyes mischievous. For a moment, Nanny was reminded of Butch's trouble-making streak and the look he would get in his eyes when making up one of his schemes.

"Yes," she answered, chuckling. "And now you look like a naughty little boy with a plan for getting into trouble."

Nanny watched as the Professor's eyes turned dark and his smile faded. Something in his intense expression sobered her, and she found she couldn't look away from his eyes.

"I can't say I feel much like a boy right now," he told her, one corner of his mouth tugging towards a grin again. "But I do feel like making some mischief." He reached past Nanny for the brandy decanter and filled a glass for each of them. As he did so, the Professor brushed close to her, and she could smell the clean, woodsy scent of his aftershave. He handed her the small glass, then touched his glass to hers in a toast.

"Here's to mischief making, naughty – men," he said in a low voice.

Nanny tasted the brandy, feeling the slight burn of the amber liquid as it warmed her throat. But the continuing, spreading warmth she felt was not because of the alcohol, but due to the Professor's deep, rolling tenor. His low voice often produced a reaction inside of her, a melting feeling as if he were whispering directly into her ear instead of seated a foot or two away. And that warmth produced a flush she couldn't control. Nanny knew the Professor was observing her reaction to his words and his tone, and she damned her fair complexion for giving her away.

"You're blushing," he whispered, almost surprised he could elicit that response from her.

"I'm not used to brandy," Nanny tried to explain." And it is warm here by the fire."

"Then let's get up and dance," the Professor stood up and reached for Nanny's hand. "We should get in some practice before dancing in public tomorrow night." He grinned at her again. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you by stepping all over your feet."

XXXXXXXXX

Thunder rumbled and rain beat on the windows, but the noise didn't drown out the soft music coming from the stereo. Periodic lightening flashes and flickering firelight created shifting light and shadow on the floor, walls and ceiling, but those interesting patterns when unnoticed by the couple dancing in slow circles on the living room floor.

"It must be getting very late," Nanny murmured, her cheek resting against Harold Everett's shoulder. She felt, more than heard, his answering "hmmm" as a vibration through his chest. Neither made a move to part, instead the arm around Nanny's waist seemed to tighten and pull her closer. She sighed, not exactly in resignation, and let her eyes slip closed again. Since the Professor had taken her into his arms, she had been drifting in and out of what seemed to be a dream state. One song after another blended together and as they continued to dance, Nanny felt herself melting deeper and deeper into his embrace.

"I love dancing with you," the Professor seemed to whisper, his voice soft and low so close to her ear. "You have such presence in this home, such a strong and powerful spirit, that I forget how tiny you really are." He pressed his cheek against her soft hair and held her hand a little tighter. "Our size difference should make dancing difficult," he turned her in a graceful half circle,"but here we are, a perfect fit." Moving his lips against her temple he whispered, "That doesn't make sense."

Nanny laughed lightly. "Some of the nicest things – the biggest surprises in life in fact – don't make sense. They should just be accepted and enjoyed."

"True," the Professor agreed, "so true." Then he matched his movements to the increased tempo of the music, swinging Nanny effortlessly. He heard her breath catch in her throat, but she kept up beautifully, settling into the new rhythm he'd set.

"I've heard it said,"Nanny began, looking up into the Professor's eyes, "that music and dancing are the oldest forms of social communication."

"Which one of your relatives said that?" the Professor asked, smiling down at her. "I'm guessing it was Aunt Agatha."

Nanny was surprised. "How did you know that?" she asked.

"She seemed the most 'social' of all of your relatives," he told her. "And she's correct." The Professor bent his head to whisper directly into her ear. "There is a clarity to our communicating when we're dancing – finding the right words can be so hard."

Nanny shivered, both from the warm breath in her ear and the impact of his words. "Most communication is non-verbal, maybe that's why dancing was invented." She caught the Professor's eye again. "It is a wonderful social lubricant."

He grinned at her again. "If that's so, why are you in lecture mode Professor Figalilly?"

"Are you saying I talk too much?" Nanny asked him teasingly.

"Only when holding you in my arms answers more of my questions than all of your evasive, indirect verbal answers combined," then he softened his works by gently saying in her ear, "And right now I'd say we were communicating beautifully."

The music changed again. Mellow, harmonic male voices began singing, "When I Fall in Love". The couple fell silent, continuing to move across the floor, but listening to the song's tender lyrics.

"When I fall in love

It will be forever

Or I'll never fall in love"

The Professor slowly moved his hand in a light caress against Nanny's back. He was reminded again of how small she was and how his large hands could easily span her waist. He knew he was unconsciously trying to communicate to her through the music and the words of the song. He was falling in love with her, and perhaps had already fallen in love with her completely. It was true all they had shared was some harmless flirtation and this one romantic evening. Still, they had lived together for over two years in his home, sharing a harmony that had eluded him during his marriage. And despite the social distance that was required between them as employer and employee, tonight those barriers easily and totally shattered.

Nanny made a soft sound, and shivered in his arms. He didn't believe she was cold, but he held her more closely anyway, enveloping her hand in his and bringing it to his chest. Were her feelings for him anything like what he was feeling for her? For all her knew she was still engaged to be married. She could still be subject to a wanderlust that could take her from him and from his family at any moment.

"And the moment that I feel that

You feel that way too

Is when I'll fall in love with you"

The music ended and Nanny raised her face to look at him. Her eyes were wide, luminous and a clear, deep blue. She gave him a gentle smile and her lips parted, looking soft and moist in the firelight. Thunder rumbled again as if reminding the Professor there were some forces of nature that couldn't be resisted. He bent his head and kissed her.

He wanted his kiss to be gentle, tentative, even hesitant, giving her plenty of time to pull away or resist or even return the kiss softly. But the moment their lips touched, his mouth became hungry for hers, pressing and opening her lips under his, stealing his breath and capturing hers.

The instant the Professor realized he was clutching Nanny and crushing her mouth in a bruising kiss he loosened his hold on her and prepared to apologize. Then his contriteness  
turned to amazement as he realized she was passionately returning his kiss. Her arms wound tight around his neck and her hot, open mouth under his was as welcome as it was surprising. He held her impossibly close once again, matching her desire with his own urgency.

The Professor dimly heard the cuckoo clock in the hall. It hadn't sounded past eight o'clock in the evening for years, yet now, on this midnight, at this moment, the sound of the clock entered their new and fragile little world. And as if the clock had the power to break this spell of passion and intimacy around them, he felt Nanny's arms slip from around his neck and her mouth pull away from his. For a moment she looked at him dazed and bright-eyed, her lips swollen from his kisses and still parted enticingly. Then she broke away from him, and like Cinderella, ran up the stairs before the clock completed its midnight call.


	4. Chapter 4

"**Every dancing princess gets her prince"**

When Nanny came down the stairs early Saturday morning, she stopped in the living room to straighten it from the evening before. To her surprise, there wasn't a thing out of place. The stereo was closed; records put back, and the loveseats were both in their usual positions. No brandy decanter, coffee things or dessert dishes were evident. Even the fireplace grate was swept clean.

Upon entering the kitchen, Nanny found the same thing. All food was put away, dishes washed, candles removed and the table cleared. All that remained of the dinner setting from the night before was the rose centerpiece. And that was beginning to wilt a little.

Sighing, Nanny could almost believe the entire previous evening had never happened. The house had been swept clear of any remnants but her memories. Even the day had dawned fresh and clear with vivid blue skies and no evidence of thunderstorms. She glanced at her watch and realized even the cuckoo clock was silent.

The backdoor opened and Professor Everett came in, his golf bag slung over one shoulder. He looked surprised to see her, possibly planning to make his escape to the golf course before she came downstairs that morning.

"Ah, Good Morning, Nanny," he said. The bright tone in his voice did not match the tired and worried expression in his eyes. "I was just out back taking a few practice swings." He slid the bag to the floor and gestured with his golfing stance. "I've got a game with Fiske today and he loves to play for money."

Nanny nodded, but said nothing. She glanced around the kitchen again, and then looked at the Professor with a question in her eyes.

"I couldn't sleep," he told her sheepishly. "Maybe it was a guilty conscience."

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Professor," Nanny said quietly. "And neither do I. What happened last night was…"

"Hi!" They were interrupted by Prudence, bouncing into the kitchen with the boundless energy of a seven-year-old. She ran to her Daddy, lifting her arms to him. After he picked her up, she kissed him soundly on the cheek.

"Good Morning, Daddy! How was the special dinner Nanny made for you?" The little girl then turned in her father's arms to smile at Nanny. Although Nanny immediately returned Prudence's smile, the child's face fell.

"What's wrong?" Prudence slipped from her father's embrace and went to Nanny's side. She took one of Nanny's hands in both of hers and looked up at the woman in concern.

"What happened, Nanny? Did the wine sauce come out really yucky? Did the fudge cake fall?" The seriousness of the child's questions made Nanny smile at her again, and this time Nanny's smile did reach her eyes. She knelt down in front of Prudence.

"No, Prudence, the dinner came out well," she looked up at the Professor.

"That's right, Darling," he crouched down next to Prudence also. "Nanny made a wonderful dinner. It was a wonderful evening." The Professor looked at Nanny. She smiled briefly at him but didn't reply.

Prudence looked from one adult to the other. "Then why are you both so sad?"

"Not sad, Sweetheart," Nanny told her, "perhaps just a bit tired. Butch did get us all up rather early yesterday morning."

"Yes, but you had all last night to sleep," Prudence said. "_I'm_ not tired today."

Chuckling, the Professor stood up and patted Prudence on the head. "Prudence, that's pretty good logic. However," he made his way across the kitchen to the percolator, "sometimes adults need more sleep than kids."

"Oh," Prudence said, satisfied. "Well, tonight you can get lots of sleep because there'll be no kids in the house to bother you." She frowned at the empty breakfast table. "Nanny?" she asked, "Where's breakfast?"

Nanny looked at the child and was silent for a moment. Then she seamed to rouse and smiled at Prudence again. "Well, what would you like for breakfast, Your Ladyship?"

Prudence beamed, enjoying the attention. "Scrambled eggs, toast and juice." Then she paused, thinking. "Cinnamon toast."

"Alright Prudence," Nanny agreed, "Now run and get your library books so we can start our errands right after breakfast."

"Yes, Nanny," Prudence said obediently, and then left the kitchen heading for her room.

Nanny crossed the kitchen to the stove where the Professor was leaning against the counter drinking coffee.

"You made the coffee," she said accepting the cup the Professor handed her.

"I told you, I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I," Nanny stated as she removed a frying pan from the cupboard.

The Professor looked at her intently for a moment then said, "Nothing for me, thanks," he drained his coffee cup. "I'll grab something at the club." Retrieving his golf clubs he turned back to her.

"About tonight Nanny…" he began.

"Would you rather not go?" she asked him, mildly.

"No!" the Professor said. "I want to go. I just thought that maybe you had changed your mind after…"

"No," Nanny said with a slight shake of her head. "I haven't changed my mind. I want to go. I've…I've been looking forward to it."

"So have I," he said, softly. "I didn't realize before just how much." He smiled at her, his blue eyes sincere.

XXXXXXXXX

Generally the family schedule on Saturdays was as routine as on any weekday. Breakfast, Hal's Junior Science Club meeting, Butch's Little League practice, Prudence's dance class, a library trip for pick-ups and returns, then lunch. The children had the afternoons free, for playing in the neighborhood or attending a matinee movie, depending on the weather.

Nanny spent Saturday afternoons puttering in the garden, often with a load of laundry on the line, and preparing an early dinner, all before the Professor's afternoon tea. The Professor's Saturdays were spent alternately teaching a morning class and catching up on his paperwork, or out on the golf links from early morning till late afternoon. The habit of Nanny preparing an early dinner on Saturdays evolved from the Professor being out many of those evenings and skipping dinner at home.

It was peculiar, Nanny realized, that as Hal's social life began to include spending more time with friends, including girls, it was more likely that he, and not his father, was absent from the dinner table on Saturday evenings. She realized, with a start, that she couldn't honestly remember the last time Professor Everett had gone out for an evening. He attended plenty of faculty functions and saw friends in the evenings occasionally, but she couldn't recall the last time she had heard him mention a date. It had been quite a while since any woman had called the house asking for him, and he hadn't brought a date home in…months? Or was it closer to a year?

Considering this, it occurred to Nanny that the Professor seemed to stop dating around the time she had had a few dates with her psychology professor, Roger Samuelson. She did remember well that Professor Everett appeared annoyed and out of sorts to find her in the company of "Swinging Sam". He had also expressed relief when he discovered Roger had returned to his former girlfriend. At the time, Nanny didn't want to believe the Professor's reactions were motivated by jealousy, but looking back it seemed more than a possible reason, but a likely one.

When her life-long fiancé, Cholmondeley Featherstonehaugh, arrived the previous fall it was impossible to miss either the Professor's sadness at her departure or his irritation at Cholmondeley. He had always been so gracious and solicitous to all of her visitors and relatives, his reaction to Cholmondeley had been quite a contrast. Even after she had chosen to stay with the family, the Professor would bristle at even the mention of the man. The children had all been quite fond of Cholmondeley and talked about his visit still, not to mention the continuing need for the care and feeding of the cat, rabbit and carrier pigeon he had brought them.

As Nanny maneuvered Arabella through the streets to pick Prudence up from her dance class, she recalled Cholmondeley's visit. One memory in particular produced a soft fluttering in her chest: the look in Professor Everett's eyes as she came down the stairs in her great-grandmother's wedding dress. He had told her the dress was beautiful, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of her face. She could see something deep and longing in his eyes as they gazed at one another, and in just those few seconds, she felt something irreparably change for both of them. Then she had fled from his gaze, just as she had escaped from his kisses last night, afraid of what might happen if she had stayed near to him one more moment.

Yet she didn't leave the household as Cholmondeley had anticipated, and this morning she had told the Professor she was looking forward to an evening out with him. And she was. Dinner alone and dancing… Nanny felt her face flush as she recalled being held in the Professor's arms the night before and how effortlessly they had moved together, like she belonged there. She'd felt so comfortable in his strong arms, so safe and warm and loved… Chiding herself for daydreaming like a schoolgirl, and for even thinking in such romantic clichés, she nonetheless realized all of it was true. She'd never felt like she had "belonged" to Cholmondeley, although she had been betrothed to him since her birth. She had never felt as she did last night, not when she had danced with Cholmondeley, and certainly not when they had kissed.

Luckily, Nanny found a parking place near the dance studio and pulled into the space smoothly. She had begun trembling thinking of the Professor's kisses the previous night. She had never been kissed like that before and had never kissed anyone like that before in her life. Nanny was well aware the Professor had been shocked by his own actions and had been prepared to release her, but she had astonished both of them by refusing to let him go. Wanting their kisses to go on and on and on she would probably still be there in the living room kissing him if the hall clock's cuckoo hadn't startled her.

The fact was Nanny was still engaged to Cholmondeley. He expected, his family expected, and her family expected her to decide to marry him sometime soon. Tradition and family had always been important to her, and she had never, not once, been tempted not to follow through on what was required of her. For as long as she could remember, she knew who she would marry, where and how she would live, and what her future would be. She had been indulged in her wanderlust, as befitted any Figalilly, but was still expected her to carry on the custom of joining the two, old families. That she loved him wasn't in question. He had been part of her life forever. But loving someone, like Cholmondeley, as part of her extended family, and being _in love _with someone were distinctly different things.

Could she marry someone she loved, but wasn't in love with? Could she marry one man and forget how another had made her feel, for the first time, the full possibilities of what love could be between a man and a woman? Would she ever be able to forget how the Professor looked at her, how he held her, how he kissed her…and how much she wanted to hold him and kiss him again? She took a deep breath and shook her head. It was impossible. Her engagement was important to her family and what had passed between her and Professor Everett might only be a strong, physical attraction, nothing more. They had ignored it for years, and could continue to ignore it. Perhaps it was time for her to consider leaving the family after all.

The thought of leaving sobered her. Just then Prudence appeared in the doorway of the dance studio, spied Nanny and waved. She made her way towards the car, skipping all the way. Her actions made tears prick the back of Nanny's eyes. She loved this child, all of the Everett children in fact, how could she ever think of leaving them?

"Nanny," Prudence said in a sing-song fashion, "guess what I learned today?"

"I couldn't possibly guess," Nanny told her, helping the child secure her seatbelt.

"I learned that every dancing princess gets her prince," the little girl told her. "Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty…she just has to wait long enough."

"I certainly hope so, Sweetheart," Nanny told her, carefully backing the car out of its parking space. "I certainly hope so."

XXXXXXXXX

The hall clock cuckooed six times. Harold Everett looked toward the clock. Although Butch had bought the clock for the entire family to enjoy, the truth was the Professor had never liked the damn thing. And today he disliked the clock more that ever. It reminded him of the interruption of the most passionate and powerful kiss he had ever experienced, and he was still baffled why that kiss had ended. All last night and all day today he had thought about what had happened. Like the trained scientist he was, he weighted the evidence: optimistically he wanted to believe Nanny had pulled away from him because she too was feeling overwhelmed of where that kiss would logically lead them, and needed time to sort out her feelings. Pessimistically he considered she had decided the whole situation was a bad idea, and had left him without explanation to save them both the embarrassment. Of course, when fatigue and doubt had seized him several times that day, he started to believe she had not enjoyed his attentions or his kisses, and had broken away to avoid hurting his feelings. However that account made the least sense, the Professor reasoned, a soft smile forming on his face, he knew when a woman was enjoying being kissed, and Nanny had returned his kisses with a hunger and abandon he hadn't imagined she possessed.

The clock stopped and the Professor glanced up the stairs. She had said she wanted to go out with him this evening, and he hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told her he hadn't realized how much he was looking forward to being alone with her. They had to spend more time together if they were ever going to figure out if this spark of attraction between them was something real, or just physical. He was ready to admit that he loved her, but was that a love based on familiarity and friendship, hunger and desire, or a combination of things creating a much deeper and longer lasting love?

He heard her on the stairs and looked up as she approached. When he saw her she nearly took his breath away. Gone was the pretty, pert and modestly dressed children's nanny. In her place was a beautiful, delicate and sensual woman. Her long, honey blond hair was loose and spilled over her shoulders, her make-up a shade heavier for evening, making her eyes appear darker and her lips fuller, glossy. The dress she wore was midnight blue silk and sleeveless, cut low enough in the front and the back to display more creamy skin than the Professor remembered seeing before. And he would have remembered. The dress was belted tight, showing off her tiny waist and rounded curves, the skirt flowing at a fashionably short length, revealing shapely legs that appeared longer in darker stockings and higher heels than those she usually wore.

Finding his voice, the Professor said, "I'll say what I should have said before: _You _look absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you, Professor," Nanny said softly, almost shy.

He met her on the landing before the door, "I have one stipulation for this evening, and that is that you call me Hal or Harold."

"Alright…Hal," she agreed.

"And does that mean I may also call you, Phoebe?" the Professor asked, smiling.

"Of course," Nanny said, returning his smile.

"Good," he gathered her light wrap from her and draped it over her shoulders. "Arabella awaits and an open car can be drafty."

He held the door for her and followed her into the night.

XXXXXXXXX


	5. Chapter 5

"**Say yes"**

The Marquis was by far by far the best restaurant in town. Set in City Park next to the lake, it was surrounded by greenery and secluded, yet had an expansive view of the city's skyline. It was beautiful anytime, but after dark the vista was spectacular.

Hal and Phoebe followed the maitre'd across the plush carpet to their table. They were seated next to the window where their view of the California sunset was unobstructed and they could see the reflection of the colorful sunset on the lake.

"Lovely," Phoebe breathed, gazing out the window and accepting the menu the maitre'd handed her.

"Yes," Hal agreed, glancing out of the window and then back at her, "very."

She met his eyes with a shadow of a smile then perused the restaurant. Tables bordered the sizable dance floor, and a grand fireplace made the polished wooden surface gleam. French doors opened onto a covered terrace for outdoor dining, and a sloping walkway led to a pathway through the park.

"There is a great menu here," Hal told her, "and the wine list is excellent. Would you mind if I selected the wine tonight?"

"Please do," Phoebe said, sipping from her water glass. "I have every confidence in your choice."

"Thank you. I like to put my time in Italy to good use." He winked at her. "Computers weren't the only things I studied in graduate school."

"Computers, wine and women," she was smiling. "Wasn't that it…Hal?" Phoebe hesitated for just a moment when using his first name. It still felt strange.

"Well, yes," he answered. "It was where I met my wife." He seemed not to want to continue that line of conversation, and looked around for their waiter. "I'd like to order soon if you don't mind. For some reason I'm starving."

"You're not used to skipping breakfast," she told him, eyeing her menu.

Hal grinned at her. "You know me too well. This isn't feeling like a first date at all."

"Really?" Phoebe raised an eyebrow at him. "Yet here we are, both dressed up as if it were. Of course, last night was our…what did you call it? Our 'dry run'?"

"I guess last night was our first date," he said thoughtfully. "It certainly felt like one. There was excellent food and wine, no kids around to disturb us; it was our first time dancing together, and our first kiss." Well, there it was, out in the open. Hal paused, waiting to see what Phoebe's reaction would be.

She closed her menu and folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes were downcast and she looked as if she were searching for the right thing to say.

"I'm sorry," Hal said, contrite. "I shouldn't have just said it like that but what happened last night seems to have unsettled both of us and well… I thought it might be something we should talk about." He waited for her reply and when she didn't say anything he pressed on. "Why did you run away from me?"

Phoebe looked across the table at him, almost surprised at his directness. But she knew that was how his mind worked. If he didn't understand something, he would ask questions until his curiosity was satisfied. And this time she had the feeling her frequent evasive tactics wouldn't work with him.

Fortunately, the waiter chose that moment to appear at their table. Hal gave Phoebe a suspicious look, which she answered with wide, innocent eyes.

After they ordered and the waiter departed, Phoebe remarked, "It is such a beautiful sunset, and it looks as if it will be a fine, clear evening with none of the thunderstorms the weatherman predicted. I would love a stroll in the park after dinner." She smiled radiantly at her dinner companion. "This restaurant really is a wonderful choice. Have you been here before?" 

Hal nodded slowly, "Yes, but not for years and years." Then he frowned at her. "You didn't answer my question."

She held his eyes with hers for a long moment. "No," she said, "No I didn't and I am sorry." She appeared uncomfortable, but uncharacteristically candid. "I didn't answer you because I honestly don't know why I ran away. Fear, I suppose."

The sunset had faded and Hal's eyes looked very dark in the dim illumination from the candle on the table. He leaned forward and placed his hand lightly over hers. "Fear?" he echoed, "of me?"

Phoebe shook her head. "No, of myself. I…I've never done anything like that before, never felt…" She forced herself to continue looking into his eyes. "I didn't know what to expect from myself or from you and I thought it best to leave under those circumstances. I am here, living in your home with you and your children to provide a service and to fulfill a role. I am not here for us to…"

"I never meant for you to feel…" Hal began, trying to apologize.

"No," she said, quietly, "I know you didn't. And that's not what I mean. You didn't take advantage of your position or act irresponsibly in any way, it was me." Phoebe dropped her eyes to her lap again, struggling to get the words out. "I'm still engaged," she said in a rush. "I had no right to act as I did. I wasn't thinking."

"Neither was I," Hal said dryly, feeling very ill at ease at the affirmation of her engagement. He had irrationally believed that if he ignored that fact, it would simply go away.

"And I am sorry," he continued. "I was swept up in the moment and wasn't thinking about consequences, for you or for me. I hadn't intended to…to seduce you or to make you feel as if you had no option but to…"

"It wasn't like that," Phoebe told him. "Surely you know that. I was overly – enthusiastic – and it could have gotten us both into trouble. And that is why I left. I remembered my responsibilities."

"Responsibility, yes," Hal said deliberately. "Responsibility to your betrothal since birth. The pact your family made for you." He leaned forward again and held her eyes intently, something close to anger flared in his. "But tell me this Phoebe. Something else you've never answered: Do you love him?"

Phoebe swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She resisted the urge to reach for her water glass as she resisted the urge to flee from him again. What she did do was steady herself and look Hal directly in the eye. Clearly she said, "Yes, I love him."

He didn't flinch. "But are you in love with him?"

The wine arrived and Hal sat back in his chair with an exasperated sigh. He wasn't certain if the untimely appearance of the maitre'd was Phoebe's doing or not, but she took full advantage of the situation by speaking with the waiter in her spirited fashion. Then Hal obliged them both by sampling and approving of the wine. He was only half aware of his own actions, not paying attention to what he was doing. The wine tasted like vinegar in his mouth.

After the waiter departed, Phoebe continued speaking to him enthusiastically about the excellence of the wine and the exceptional quality of the hors d'oeuvres. Hal placed his hand over hers again, this time squeezing her hand gently, effectively stopping her chatter.

"Answer me," he said in a low and impossible to ignore plea.

There was a shadow in Phoebe's eyes that spoke volumes. "No," she said honestly in a quiet, somber tone. "I am not in love with Cholmondeley. But I do love my family dearly and will honor their wishes. It is tradition to join our two families in a marriage contract. For me to break this lineage after so long…"

"Logical," Hal said, interrupting. "A rational, logical and fixed belief system in family, tradition and honor, never to be broken or bended. Two plus two equals four. Rigid. I would never have believed it of you, Phoebe."

She stared at him, lips parted in surprise.

For the third time in three days, Hal Everett had managed to startle her. Only this time he took no satisfaction from that fact.

XXXXXXXXX

Dinner was delicious although neither of them appeared to enjoy their meals very much. Both tried to make polite conversation, but it seemed the two years of consistent denial of what was happening between them had finally run its course. Hal knew he couldn't pretend he merely liked and admired her anymore, or that he was only amused by their harmless flirting. He had to use all of his scientific stoicism to face up to the fact that he was in love with her, and she was going to marry another man. How long they could continue to live together as they had remained to be seen, but he could not imagine their arrangement could last for very much longer.

Sooner or later, Hal admitted to himself, he would want to raise the issue again, and try to force her to confront her real feelings. He knew Phoebe felt strongly for him, and he didn't want to put either of them in a situation where he would feel compelled to manipulate her or seduce her into staying with him. And eventually the temptation to do so would be too hard to resist.

Unknowingly, Phoebe's thoughts were running along an identical course as Hal's. She was also finding it impossible to consider returning to her diligent role of efficient family retainer in his home. Although they had been careful not to say too much, it was understood by both of them that they shared complicated feelings for one another, and that she, as an engaged woman, would not be able to remain in his employ.

Suddenly Phoebe mourned the simple times when she could pretend this family was her own, not only her job, and that there would never come a time she would have to leave them to fulfill her own family's obligations.

The small band that had been playing mellow dinner music began performing slow dance tunes. A girl singer started to croon, and several couples made their way to the dance floor. The lighting in the room dimmed almost imperceptibly and firelight and candlelight dominated. Hal and Phoebe's view of the skyline was sparkling now, and the reflection of a nearly full moon shimmered on the lake's surface. The romantic atmosphere seemed to demand quiet conversation and the intimacy of the dance floor beckoned.

Hal set down his wine glass. "Would it disturb your finely-tuned, rational beliefs if we indulged in another dance?" he asked. "We did get in all of that practice last night, and I don't believe our actions in a public place would embarrass either one of us."

"No use in letting all of that practice and all of this lovely music go to waste." Phoebe began to rise from her chair, accepting Hal's assistance as she stood.

His hand rested lightly on her lower back as he guided her to the dance floor. Once there he drew her gently into his embrace. Phoebe moved closer, and after a moment rested her cheek on his shoulder. She breathed in the familiar, warm scent of sandalwood.

"This is where I love to be," she thought, enjoying the solid feel of him and the smooth way he glided her across the floor. He deftly moved them among the other dancing couples. "How can this be wrong, at all, when it feels so right to be in his arms?"

"If you are wondering if what we are feeling is physical attraction," Hal murmured against her hair, "I'd have to say that empirically there's strong evidence to support that." The hand he'd rested on her waist now traveled up her back to caress the exposed skin below her shoulders. "And I'd say that you had intended to test that hypothesis by wearing this dress tonight." Pulling her closer his voice became softer and deeper. "This silk is delicate and sensual to touch, but it can't compare to the real, warm silk of your skin."

Phoebe signed, enjoying his caress, his words and his voice. She looked up at him, her eyes an alluring shade of blue. 'And I suppose you are running your own experiment, with compliments, touches and the tone on your voice?"

"Of course," Hal said, mildly, "I'm just a poor, logic-minded, mathematics professor. Experiments and seeking empirical evidence is what I do."

"And nothing can impact the balance of that perfect, precise mind?" Phoebe smiled at him now.

"I think you've proven that you can," he kept his eyes locked with hers while still managing to maneuver them carefully through the crowd. "You took the chaotic mess of my home, my family, me – and turned what was upside down right again. And you did it all with charm, grace, and a wisdom I still can't figure our completely." Hal smiled back at her. "Is it mystical knowledge? Is it magic?"

"Does it matter?" she answered his questions with a question and her smile seemed to tremble.

"I don't know," Hal was sincere. "All I seem to know is your softness," he brushed his thumb over the silky skin of the hand he was holding, "and your sweetness," he touched his lips to her temple," has been a wonder to experience. I don't think I'll ever see the world the same again."

"Is that so terrible?" Phoebe asked in a serious voice.

"No," he replied truthfully. "What's terrible is to lose it and to know I can never have it back again."

Their gaze held as the song changed. The band began playing, "The Way You Look Tonight", and Hal smiled down into Phoebe's eyes.

"How appropriate," he said. "Because I know I'll ever forget the way you look tonight, how beautiful, how delicate, and how completely feminine." He brushed soft, blond hair off of her shoulder, and for one breathless moment, Phoebe thought he was going to kiss her, right there in the middle of the crowded dance floor. Instead, Hal bent his head as if to whisper in her ear, and then dropped his lips lower, pressing his open mouth against her neck.

The melting sensations Phoebe felt passed through her in waves until she thought she'd lose her balance. With a subtle frisson she swayed in his arms and barely suppressed the moan rising in her throat.

"You're not playing fair, Hal" she almost gasped.

"I'm not playing," he whispered against her throat. "Not when I have so much to lose. Am I proving my point here?"

"About physical attraction? Oh, yes," Phoebe breathed. "But that only proves my point that…"

"Don't you agree that strong physical attraction is a powerful factor in a long-lasting love relationship?" The lips against her neck pressed a faint kiss there.

"Yes, but…" she began.

Raising his head to look into her eyes again, he looked solemn. His seductive voice turned serious. "And do you think that's all we have?"

Phoebe took in a deep breath, hoping to clear her mind. "No," she answered, "I think we have a great deal more than that. But my obligations to my family and my commitment to them – all of them including Cholmondeley – can't just be forgotten."

"I'm not asking you to forget anything," Hal told her. "I'm just asking you to use a little of your Figalilly spontaneity and wisdom to believe in the rightness of things. To have faith. Even your parents told you that you have to make the decision whether or not to marry Cholmondeley by following what is in your heart."

His earnestness almost frightened Phoebe. Hal had logically thought through all of the arguments and was presenting her with a compelling perspective of her own point of view. Of course, it didn't hurt his argument that he continued to hold her in his arms, his firm body molded to hers, and that his handsome face and irresistible, dark-lashed, blue eyes could persuade her into agreeing with him without words.

Somehow they both realized the music had ended, the band was taking a break and the dancers were leaving the floor. Phoebe was heading back to their table when Hal took her arm and led her towards the wide French doors.

"Let's take that walk in the park you wanted," he said to her in a low voice.

XXXXXXXXX

It was cooler on the terrace and Phoebe suppressed a shudder at the marked temperature drop. Hal took her hand again as they headed towards the path. Many couples had the same idea after leaving the dance floor, but most hovered in the shadows of the terrace or along the edge of the path, not venturing into the park.

They had walked only a few yards when they found themselves virtually alone strolling along the lake, admiring the glittering moon on the water and the twinkling skyline on the horizon. A sharp wind picked up and this time Phoebe did shiver.

"Are you cold?" Hal slipped an arm around her shoulders. "I can go back and get your wrap for you."

"No, I'm fine," she smiled up at him and stepped closer. "I'm warm enough now, Hal."

"Good," he brushed his lips against her temple, inhaling her soft fragrance. "It wouldn't do for you to catch cold."

"That only happens when the north wind blows from the south," Phoebe reminded him. "If that happens, I have plenty of Aunt Daphne's homemade herbal tonic to combat it."

Hal grinned, "Glad to hear it."

Keeping his arm across her shoulders, they walked along in companionable silence a moment, content to enjoy the mild evening, the lovely view, and each other's company.

"You know," Phoebe broke the silence, "my family isn't cruel or exacting, they only want what they think is best for me and what is best for the family – both families. They believe strongly in tradition and honor and sacrifice. I was raised to believe in those values as well."

"So was I," Hal told her.

"I know you were. And I know that is how you are raising your children – with strong values that will service them a lifetime. It's one of the things I admire most about you, one of the first things that made me realize…" she broke off abruptly.

"Made you realize what?" he asked her, pausing on the path.

"Made me realize that you were the kind of man – honorable, principled and living with integrity – that I could love." Phoebe looked up at him with warmth in her eyes. "I respected you from the start, and appreciated how you always treated me with respect. Not only as a gentleman respects a lady, but as a person. But although we may have all of the same values, our world views differ significantly, you must admit."

"I've considered that," Hal told her, a wry smile on his lips. 

"But as difficult as it seemed to be for you to accept my point of view at times," she went on, "you still accepted me. Whether or not you believed in what I believed, you never mocked me, or tried to change me, or to censor me in any way. Not even with your children."

"They are lucky to have you," he said gently. "They are lucky to know you and to love you. Who knows? Maybe growing up with both of our perspectives will be beneficial for them. They won't be as rigid as me," Hal grinned, "or as whimsical as you."

"There's nothing wrong with either of us," Phoebe said, answering his grin with a smile. "Science may be closer to mysticism than you think."

"How close?" He slipped both of his arms around her, pressing her slight frame against him. "Close enough to touch?"

Phoebe's eyes were shining in the moonlight and her lips were tempting. If she could intuit his desires she seemed to be all in favor of them. She made no effort to pull away.

Even as he held her closer, Hal told himself that he hadn't intended to kiss her, but the moonlight had other ideas. The force of nature that worked on the tide worked on the blood in his veins and resistance was useless. He brought his mouth to hers again.

And just as it had happened the night before, the first brush of his lips on hers bypassed tenderness and gentleness, erupting into passionate urgency. Hal didn't know if he was responding to his fear and panic over losing her, or if he'd never be able to kiss her without his hunger for her overwhelming him.

At last he broke their kiss. "You've bewitched me," he murmured into her ear breathlessly, "a woman whose lucky guesses and coincidences happen everyday, who talks to animals and plants and predicts the weather – a woman who can charm anyone and make any situation turn out for the best. How can you be?" Hal kissed the throbbing pulse in her throat and in spite of kissing her flesh and feeling her blood rushing under his lips, asked her, dreamily,"Are you a witch? A phantom? A fairy? A pixie?"

"I'm real," Phoebe whispered, an echo from the night before when he hadn't been certain he had heard her speak. "A flesh and blood woman."

"A woman," Hal said and kissed her deeply again, unsure if the low, rumbling sound he heard was distant thunder or his own longing groan.

Suddenly rain pelted down on them. Surprised, they pulled apart and Hal grabbed Phoebe's hand as they rushed up the path to the restaurant.

Stopping under the shelter of the covered terrace, they surveyed one another for damage created from the downpour. Their hair and clothing was wet, but at least they weren't drenched. Hal reached into his jacket pocket and handed Phoebe his handkerchief. She thanked him and began patting her face dry.

"You didn't do this, did you?" Hal asked, laughing and wiping at one sleeve of his dark blue jacket in an effort to brush off some of the rain. He responded to her guileless expression with a raised brow.

"You didn't think it was time for me to take a cold shower?"

Phoebe smiled broadly and he could swear her eyes were twinkling. "I'd say it was time for both of us to take a cold shower."

XXXXXXXXX

Luckily when Hal was parking the car outside of the restaurant earlier that evening, Phoebe had suggested putting Arabella's top up. Now the interior of the car was welcoming and dry, and Phoebe's wrap kept her warm against the chill of the clinging wet silk of her dress. Hal had removed his damp suit jacket and tie and left them to dry in the backseat. He ran his hands through his wet, dark hair.

"Guess we should have paid more attention to the weatherman," Hal chuckled as he started the car. "It sure is coming down now."

"I hope we won't lose power," Phoebe looked worried, glancing at all of the darkened houses on the street. It was difficult to determine if the homes were dark due to the late hour or to power outages.

"Well," he said, "at least the streetlights all appear to be working. That's a good sign. But if we don't have electricity, I can always start a fire, and we have plenty of candles."

Phoebe glanced at him and bit her lip. The amorous closeness they had shared in the park seemed to have dissolved in the rain, replaced by the comfortable domestic intimacy of their working relationship.

"Don't worry," Hal said to her anxious face, "either way we'll still have lots of cold water for the shower."

His quip relaxed Phoebe a little, and she smiled briefly. It had been a while since she had been on a date, and saying good night was sometimes awkward. Even with Cholmondeley. She almost never invited anyone into her home at the end of an evening, and if she did they stayed only long enough to have a cup of coffee. But what had occurred between her and Hal not just tonight, but last night as well, would have made it difficult to leave him on the doorstep under usual circumstances. It made her heart pound to realize he would be coming into the dark and empty house with her tonight. And staying.

The rainy drive home seemed brief on the almost deserted streets. Hal maneuvered Arabella into the open garage and parked next to the station wagon. He let the windshield wipers swipe a time or two then turned off the ignition.

"We're home," he announced unnecessarily, turning to Phoebe in the dim interior of the garage.

She didn't reply, but thought to herself: "We are home. This is my home. I feel as if I've never had any other."

"Phoebe?" Hal asked. He touched her arm when she didn't respond.

"Yes," she looked at him and nodded. "Yes, we are home. Already home." She opened the car door and let herself out, heading for the entrance of the house before Hal could open her car door for her. He followed her into the dark house.

"The lights are working," Phoebe announced, releasing a breath. She had flipped on the kitchen lights and was removing her wrap. "Would you like some coffee or a brandy, Professor?"

"Professor?" Hal frowned. "What happened to 'Hal'?"

"You asked me to call you 'Hal' this evening and I did," Phoebe answered.

"But the evening isn't over," he protested.

"Yes, but," she said, "we are home now, and as lovely as this evening was, we are back home."

"Back to our usual roles, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Back to me being the 'Professor' and your being 'Nanny'." Hal's voice was rising.

"Yes," Phoebe told him, "I've always been 'Nanny'."

"Oh no, you haven't" he said, his frustration showing. "Tonight – and last night- you were Phoebe – a beautiful, warm and passionate woman in my arms. You may be a sprite, a spirit on the wind full of wanderlust and magic, but you are also a flesh and blood woman. And you are tied to earth-bound desires – just as I am."

Hal took the few steps to reach her and held her by each of her slender arms. "I know what I felt these two nights and what I've felt these two years. You've felt it too. I love you, Phoebe. I'm in love with you. And whether you want to admit it or not, due to your sense of misplaced duty or honor or family obligation – you love me too. You're in love with me."

He gripped her harder than he intended, shaking her slightly to emphasize his words. Phoebe stared at him with eyes suddenly full of tears. Her hair had dried into a messy tumble of blond waves, her makeup washed off from the rain, and her thin, silk dress clung to her curves. She looked younger, wilder, and freer than he'd ever seen her – and she'd never been more beautiful.

He took her into his arms, feeling her trembling as she struggled with herself.

"It's over, Phoebe," Hal whispered into her silky hair. "Stop fighting. We've both lost this battle with ourselves trying to decide if we can love each other. Or how we can love each other. Or why. It doesn't matter who we have obligations to or what we think our consequences might be. Everything will be all right. Have faith in me, in you, in us – in our love."

This time when Hal bent to kiss her she met him halfway, clinging to both his neck and his mouth with equal force. She tasted of the rain, and the sweet, warm scent of both lavender and sandalwood surrounded them. The cuckoo clock began to sound, announcing midnight, and again his Cinderella broke away from him.

_Not this time. _Hal vowed grimly as he rushed after Phoebe. He caught her on the staircase landing, stopping her as his hand encircled her wrist easily.

"I don't care anymore about who you were, where you've been or where you come from," he told her desperately. "If you've taught me anything, it is to stay open to possibilities and not be committed to any outcome – to let the impossible happen."

"But this_ is_ impossible," Phoebe's voice was shaking with what seemed like anger. Whether she was angry at him or the situation they found themselves in Hal couldn't tell. "You can't understand my past, my family, my need to make things right for them…" The clock had stopped sounding and in the brief silence they could hear the rain falling hard outside of the door, and soft, rolling thunder in the distance.

"I do love you and I want to stay with you," she told him, sounding trapped and miserable. "But I have a lifetime of training to do the right thing for others – to be responsible for them, to care for them." Phoebe's voice lowered to a whisper and she touched his cheek in a caress. "I cared for you and your family when you needed me, but you don't need me any longer. You can all get along fine without me."

Hal took hold of her hand on his cheek and kissed its palm. "You're wrong," he said. "I need you more than I ever did. I need you more than your family or Cholmondeley ever did or ever could. How can you tell me staying with me, with my family, is impossible?"

"There are things we are born to do. Obligations we are fated to fulfill. No matter what my parents may have told me in that letter, everyone doesn't always get to live their own life. It is sometimes impossible to live up to the ideal of living your own life and being true to the desires of your heart." Phoebe sighed in resignation. "And if I am preordained to live out my life with Cholmondeley and not with you, then than is my own sad destiny."

"And mine," Hal said. "You have fated me to the same outcome and I don't believe in fate." He reached for her and cradled her gently to his chest. Phoebe was crying softly but seemed calmed by his embrace.

"Live the life you choose and be the woman you choose to be. You have all of this love to give, Phoebe. Can't you allow yourself to accept being loved, completely, the way I love you?" He kissed her lips again, softly and tenderly this time, and her response was warm and loving. Passion and desire lay beneath their lingering kiss, both knowing these were the kisses that were made to last throughout a lifetime together.

Phoebe released his lips gently, and looked at him in the low light with a question in her deep, blue eyes.

"You have always said nothing is impossible, an eternal optimist always looking for a miracle, always saying "yes" to life." Hal grazed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, wiping away the tears he found there. "I don't care if you never answer any of my questions about your past, just say "yes" to me now."

Hal kissed her cheeks, her hair, her neck, her shoulders, her throat, and her lips – and between each sweet kiss he whispered to her in his low, melting voice: "Say yes, that you love me; that you are in love with me and that you'll stay with me forever. Say yes, that you will let me make you happy; and you will continue to make me happy. Say yes, that you will tell your family and Cholmondeley that you won't marry him. Say yes, that you will marry me; that you will make love with me and that you will be the mother of my children and I will be the father of your children. Say yes to me Phoebe, say yes… yes… yes."

Lingering tears glistened in Phoebe's eyes as she looked into Hal's. She heard the thunder over the rapid beating of her heart and was reminded that there were things in nature she had always respected and was always connected to – animals, plants, the weather – and she had never denied their irresistible force. Was there any force more natural or irresistible than love? Their love?

Phoebe loved this man completely, loved his children, and loved the home they made together. Suddenly her eyes cleared and she smiled at him. Her face was as open and as bright as it had been on the morning they first met. Hal returned her smile just as he had on that morning and his intuition anticipated her answer:

"Yes."

The End

**Author's note:** Thanks to everyone for reading. Feedback is very welcome.


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